<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Women Are Always Right by deanwanddamons</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302257">Women Are Always Right</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwanddamons/pseuds/deanwanddamons'>deanwanddamons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fun Supernatural Fanfiction, Rowena MacLeod - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:29:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwanddamons/pseuds/deanwanddamons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Rowena have a disagreement about the use of ingredients for a spell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rowena MacLeod - Relationship, Sam Winchester - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Women Are Always Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m telling you now, Sam, you are wrong.” The tiny, red-headed witch huffed, swinging her body towards the tall, hazel-eyed hunter before her. </p><p>“Rowena, I am not! Look, it says so here. Lucinda died in 1949. There is no way you could have spoken to her yesterday!” Sam growled, thrusting the book he was holding towards her. </p><p>“Trust me, dearie,” she continued, her soft Scottish accent going up an octave in frustration, “the list of ingredients in your precious book is wrong! When I spoke to Sabina, she gave me the exact spell we require to help Dean.” Her heels clicked along the floor of the bunker as she paced, black ankle-length dress swishing behind her. </p><p>“Dean needs us now, Rowena. He’s been cursed and we haven’t got time to argue about this. The Men of Letters were meticulous when it came to recording everything they learned in their journals, and it’s here in black and white. Lucinda O’Rorke was killed by Henry Winchester himself,” Sam huffed as he ran his hands through his shaggy hair. </p><p>“Witches can easily fake their own death, dear,” Rowena said. “Consider present company,” she added, gesturing towards herself with a flourish to emphasize her point. </p><p>Sam scowled at her, slamming the book down on the table. </p><p>“So, what do we do? Waste time using the ingredients you think we need, or go with what’s here?” he asked; the flat of his hand coming down hard on the cover of the now closed book. </p><p>“Samuel,” she chided, “I’m hurt that you do not trust me,” the witch said, bringing her hand up to her chest in mock surprise. </p><p>“Of course I don’t trust you. And you know how Dean feels about witches. He would be pissed if he knew I had even considered asking for your help.” </p><p>“Well, he is not in a position to be pissed at anything at the moment,” she responded, nodding her head towards Dean’s room, where he was currently out cold on his bed. “It’s entirely up to you if you want to accept what I’m saying, my lovely boy, or continue with your research. I’ll just sit here quietly and wait for you to decide.” Lifting the hem of her dress, she daintily sat down and crossed her legs. </p><p>“Oh, for fucks sake-“</p><p>“Language in front of a lady!” Rowena smiled mischievously, enjoying winding him up, knowing she would eventually get her own way. She always seemed to be able to wrap the Winchesters around her little fingers, even though they had a deep-seated hatred of witches. </p><p>Sam stomped around the table to where she was sitting, reaching her in a few long strides. Resting his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned towards her, towering over her as he spoke. </p><p>“Fine. We’ll do it your way. But if it doesn’t work, then we’ll go back to the lore. And if you’re correct, we don’t tell Dean it was your idea. Deal?” </p><p>“Deal. I’ll go and fetch what we need,” she smiled, gracefully getting up from her seat and ducking under his arm. </p><p>He rolled his eyes as she almost danced away from him towards the storeroom. She always had a knack of getting her own way with him. He returned to his seat and opened the book he was reading, just in case she was wrong and he needed what was listed, as it may require a supply run. </p><p>Rowena had only been gone a few moments when Sam heard her call his name. Making his way towards her voice, he saw she was carrying a number of different items in her arms.</p><p>“Could you be a darling and fetch the rest? They are laid out on the table,” she asked him sweetly, batting her eyelashes up at him. </p><p>Retrieving the said items, he carried them into the war room and placed them down next to where Rowena had painted a symbol on the floor. She was on her knees in the middle of  it with a bowl in front of her, and had begun combining the items together. As she collected the things Sam had brought to her, she started to chant. </p><p>Flames licked the bowl as her voice gained intensity, a billow of purple smoke rising into the air. She waved her arms around as she continued chanting, gathering the smoke into her petite hands. With a well-aimed flourish, she sent the smoke hurtling across the room towards where Dean was comatosed. </p><p>Sam followed its path as it flew down the corridor. It moved as if it had a life of its own, pausing at Dean’s door before seeping underneath. Seconds later, he heard a deep, weary voice coming from inside the room. </p><p>“Sammy?” </p><p>Throwing open the door, he entered. Dean was sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes as if he had just woken from a very deep sleep.</p><p>“What happened?” Dean asked as Sam went to him.</p><p>“One guess.” </p><p>“Eugh. Witches man, they’re so freakin’ skeevy,” Dean groaned. “One of the bastards cursed me didn’t they? How did you-“</p><p>“Don’t ask. I’ll be right back. Wait there,” Sam told him, leaving the room. </p><p>Rowena was picking up the objects off the floor and was placing them on the table. “It worked I presume?” she asked, a smug smile on her painted red lips. </p><p>“It did. Dean is awake. Thank you,” Sam conceded, annoyed that she had been right yet again. </p><p>Collecting her belongings, she headed towards the bunker steps, gathering up her skirts as she began climbing. Sam followed her. </p><p>“You don’t need to see me out. But you do owe me, Mr. Winchester.” </p><p>Sam was still behind her, but a few steps below when she reached the top. Turning to face him, Rowena looked down at him, towering over him for a change. “Oh, how the tables have turned,” she giggled as she ruffled his hair. </p><p>“A woman is always right, Samuel,” she teased, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose, “especially this one.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>